Daughter of Eve: the Tale of a Forgotten Queen
by Victoriane
Summary: Along with the four Pevensie children, an American tomboy from Manhattan was thrown into Narnia. This is her story, detailing her rise to High Queen and her quest to find Peter after they are both sent back to their former lives. COMPLETE
1. Another

**Daughter of Eve**

**the Tale of the High Queen of Narnia**

**Prologue - Another**

Peter and his siblings, along with the Beavers, could all see that the White Witch's magic was weakening. Spring was showing everywhere and the snow was melting into the glassy puddles. Another hour into their trek and they came upon a great procession of animals and creatures of every kind, all heralding the coming of Aslan. The four Pevensies and the Beavers came to a halt, as did the procession, and Aslan approached them, making even Peter quaver under his fiery gaze.

"There is another," he said simply, watching the children. He turned his shaggy head to face a pair of nymphs flanking a girl. "Come," he said to the girl. She hesitantly stepped forward, free of her nymph bodyguards, and walked to Aslan's side, looking for all the world like she had crossed out of reality.

The girl was quiet before realizing that Aslan meant for her to introduce herself. She blinked her pale green eyes quickly, composing herself, "I'm Natasha," she said finally. "Natasha Boregard," she murmured as an afterthought. Her accent was clearly American.

"Peter Pevensie," the eldest Pevensie answered, feeling it his duty to introduce the rest of the clan, "These are my sisters, Susan and Lucy," he added. Peter thought it unwise to go into detail concerning Edmund at the moment. Natasha smiled slightly and nodded her head, happy to have found some actual _people_ in this new world.

The group was quiet for sometime and the Pevensies surveyed Natasha. The Beavers had warned them of the enemy's spies, and the wanted to be on their guard. Peter couldn't help notice that the girl was quite pretty in a...different kind of way. She wasn't a blonde bombshell or anything like that, but she had her good features. Her eyes were the color of sunkissed sea foam and a dusting of freckles finished off her facial features. Her hair was plain, to say the most, a mousy brown cut in a straight line just below her shoulders. Natasha seemed to be of Peter or Susan's age, but was shorter then the siblings. Unlike Susan, she wasn't delicate or frail, but had the look of a tomboy.

"You're American," Susan said after a moment of awkward silence.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, "And you're British." Peter grinned and brushed his hair from his eyes. This girl wasn't one to be taken lightly, he could tell. Aslan had known right away that the two were exact opposites. Where Peter was calm and level-headed, Natasha was a slave to her temper and her recklessness. But they were the two sides of the same coin, and, inevitably, perfect for one another, if they could overcome her stubborness and his exaggerated propriety. The Great Lion still didn't know how Natasha had come into Narnia. All he knew was that the years ahead would be very, very rough.

**Okaaaay...that was the prologue. Review, and then Chapter 1 will be up! A brief warning, however. Chapter 1 begins after the Witch is dead, at the Coronation of the Four Pevensies. Because going through LWW would be just repetitive at this point...grumbles and starts typing again**


	2. Coronation and Attack

**Daughter of Eve**

**The Tale of a Forgotten Queen**

**A/N - Thanks to Kate, my one reviewer! I know, I love Peter!**

**Chapter I - Coronation and Attack**

The day had finally come. Natasha could not believe how nervous she was, considering that she was not the one being crowned today. No, that was Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, the people she had known for only a short time but now saw as her closest friends. It was strange, the bond she shared with what seemed to her the only other people with a thousand miles.

She had finished dressing almost 15 minutes before she was called to the throne room of Cair Paravel. The Pevensies were nowhere in sight, but instead were hovering nervously in a small side chamber awaiting their cue to enter.

Edmund was bouncing from foot to foot, trying to work off his nervous energy, his golden hair bouncing along with him. Lucy was trying not to bite her nails while Susan was wringing her hands and pacing. Peter was the only one not moving, looking as stern and calm as always. But inside his mind was reeling at the thought of taking control of entire nation, of being responsible for every creature in the next room and beyond. It was enough to make a boy sick.

But not Peter. When the trumpeters sounded proudly outside in the hall, he lead his brother and sisters like, for lack of a better word, a king. The room fell silent as they walked down the great aisle to the four thrones on the raised dais at the end of the hall. Out of the corner of his eye the boy could see friends on either side of him beaming proudly. The four children reached the end of the parted crowd and stood in front of their respective throne. Before he went to stand before the centermost one, Peter caught Natasha's eye and the two smirked at each other.

The two had developed somewhat of a brother/sister rivalry, to say the least. They had been competing since the Great Battle, their newest contest being who could go the longest without speaking. Natasha always lost that one.

The American girl winked at her friend before the four moved as one and sat on the thrones. She smiled, watching Aslan crown them all as kings and queens of Narnia. One might wonder why she herself was not chosen as a Queen. It did seem logical that she would replace the young Lucy, but Aslan felt it best the rulers be siblings, as to form an ancient bond of blood. Natasha cared not, but instead was happy that she would not have that pressure on her shoulders. How wrong she was, as time would soon tell.

It seemed to Natasha that the coronation was over quickly, but to the Pevensies, Lucy (who could barely hold up her crown) especially, it seemed lifetimes. Natasha tried not to laugh at the little girl and smiled warmly at her. Lucy refrained from laughing, as Peter had stood and called for his sword.

"As my first act as High King of Narnia," he said in a regal voice that was not his own, "I will knight the heroes of our campaign against the Witch, and establish a court here at our residence of Cair Paravel." Peter had discussed this plan with Aslan, who heartily approved of knighting his strongest allies and friends and establishing a court of the royalty.

Natasha blinked quickly, a sign that she didn't quite understand what was going on and didn't like it in the least. As a girl from Manhattan, knighting and royal courts were not something she heard of regularly. Unfortunately for her, she was the first to be called before Peter.

Peter, now High King, met her eyes and smiled, "Natasha Boregard, come forward," he said. Natasha hastily walked towards him, stopping before the throne. The girl did nothing for a moment, "Kneel," Peter whispered softly, smiling all the while. She complied and kneeled, a flushing creeping into her cheeks. Natasha could feel every eye in the room on herself and Peter, and shuddered as the cool steel of Peter's sword grazed her bare shoulders.

"For services provided to Crown and Country at the Great Battle," the king continued calmly, "I knight you, and grant you lordship over Owlwood and the bordering lands." Owlwood was a forest north of Cair Paravel, and giving Natasha lordship over these lands would ensure her a seat in the Court. Peter didn't intend to send his friend to a faraway land as an emissary and knew she wouldn't be satisfied with sitting around the castle. "Arise, Lady Natasha of Owlwood." The girl did so and grinned crookedly at Peter, who winked playfully. She returned to her spot in the crowd, who now nodded with respect at her.

Peter raised his sword again, calling another before the throne, "Tumnus the Fawn..."

I--------------------------------I

After the coronation of the the Pevensies, four years passed before the Northern Giants finally were able to cross into Narnian country. They swept down from their mountains, heading towards the sea. But their leader, a giant called Rastaghad, decided to cross the River Shribble instead of the marshes, and begin their attack on the castle at Owlwood, the residence of one Lady Natasha. The morning of their march it was foggy, and visibility was limited. The castle was on the northern face of the forest, up the hill from the river. Usually Natasha could see it from her window, but today the mist shrouded all that lay north. Though it was hardly past noon, the sky was dark with clouds.

She had just returned from another tournament at Cair Paravel. All the Pevensies, save Lucy, had won prizes at the tournament. Peter for sword fighting, Edmund for jousting, and Susan for archery. It had been fun. All her visits to Cair Paravel were fun.

Currently, the Lady of Owlwood stood on her balcony, staring into the mist. She tilted her head to the side, letting her chestnut hair fall over her shoulder. Since her arrival in Narnia, Natasha had gone from a gangly thirteen year old to a noble young woman. Her thoughts began drifting back to Cair Paravel - and to Peter. For some reason her mind kept coming back to him. They had recently celebrated his 18th birthday and Natasha saw him differently.

The girl was jolted from her dream-like state by the heavy beating of a drum and the stamping of heavy feet. "What the-?"

I--------------------------------I

"Sire!" an elderly advisor to King Peter came stumbling after Peter and Edmund, who were going over the tournament, replaying every last bit of it. The High King held out his arm, halting himself and his brother.

Peter smiled warmly at the older man, "Yes, what is it Faradin?" His voice had changed years before and was now gentle and good-natured, like a king should be. "Not another sore loser somewhere hoping for a rematch?" He and Edmund chuckled. They stopped when they saw Faradin was not laughing.

"Your Majesty, the Northern Giants have breached Narnia. We just received word of their crossing of the River Shribble," he said gravely. Peter's jaw tightened and his eyes hardened. Edmund narrowed his eyes, knowing what would be said next.

"Into Owlwood?" Peter growled, his kind voice now strong and stern. His mind was on Natasha. She was like his sister, and now only the maze that was the forest stood in the way of the giants' invasion. "Assemble the army. Call up the centaurs, eagles, any Talking Animal able to fight. We march to Owlwood before sunset."

The two kings turned on their heels, heading towards the stables. Faradin ran in the other direction to raise the alarm and alert the other nobles and court members of the attack on Narnia. Just as the sun began setting into the ocean, the two brothers led their army of Talking Animals and men alike north.

**MUST I YELL? REVIEW!**


	3. The Army at Owlwood

**Daughter of Eve: The Tale Of A Forgotten Queen**

**Chapter II - The Army at Owlwood**

**A/N - LOLs, glad I have at least 2 fans who review even though about 50 have read the fic! JK guys, just happy you reviewed, but more would be nice...**

Lady Natasha ran from her room and out into the hall, "Damn, damn, double damn," she muttered under her breath. Even after four years in Narnia, some of her American curses still escaped her lips every now and then.

"My lady?" a passing guard asked, catching her by the arm.

"We're under attack! The giants have reach Narnia!" Natasha yelled, watching realization stir in the guard. He wasted no more time with the respective titles and bows, but turned and bolted down into the courtyard, screaming for a messenger to ride as quickly as possible to Cair Paravel.

Natasha came running after him, reaching the courtyard as the messenger was swinging up onto the horse, "Make sure the message gets directly to Pe- The High King! No one but the High King!" she repeated wildly. The ground was now shaking with the footsteps of dozens of giants making their way up the slopes of the river valley. The last of them were crossing the river, sending the sounds of splashing up to the castle.

The Lady covered her throat with her hand and whispered "No one but Peter."

"Your Majesties, the army that could be called on such short notice are assembled and ready," Faradin said to Peter and Edmund, who were perched on their white stallions in front of the entrance to Cair Paravel. "More warriors are on thier way from Archenland, Glasswater, and the Shuddering Wood. Luckily most of the centaurs were not as far as the Dancing Lawn and have arrived quickly, and eagles are coming from as far as Cauldron Pool."

"Very good, sir," Peter replied. He looked up to a balcony where his sisters stood, anxiously watching him. He raised his hand in farewell to them before he and Edmund spurred their horses. The two set off down the road to the plain seperating Owlwood from the land of Cair Paravel where the army awaited.

Susan was left in charge of Cair Paravel, as she usually was in Peter's absence. But during those times, Natasha always came down from her own castle to offer advice, guidance, and companionship. Since the end of the White Witch, the five had become the best of friends and more of a family of sorts. The Pevensies were outraged that the giants had come to Narnia, but cared more about getting Natasha out of the line of fire. As such, recovering her was Peter's first priority.

The great host arrived at Owlwood Castle a few hours after nightfall. The men were all on horses and most of the animals were of the fast sort, so the journey had been quick. Though it was night, the hundreds of torches lit on the battlements made it seem like fiery day. From the castle walls the Guard of Owlwood, nearly a hundred men, rained down arrows on the advancing giants who had taken their clubs to the gates. Only a few giants had fallen, but the same went for the guards.

At first no one spotted the Narnian army as all the guards were at the front of the castle. The giants hadn't the sense to surround the castle and attack both the front and rear gates. Lady Natasha saw the green and red banner of Narnia first from her post on the back battlements. She had been searching the woods for hours for any sign of men from Cair Paravel.

"Peter!" she yelled over the sounds of arrows and clubs. "Edmund!" The two brothers couldn't help but smile. She was safe, and now they could focus on the task at hand - stopping the giants.

Natasha flew from the back wall to the front, calling for guards to open the rear gate. "The High King has come! The army is here!" she yelled to them. A resounding cheer rose from the ranks and four guards ran to the back gate, pulling the levers. The portcullis raised with the clang of iron and the two kings along with their advisors and commanders entered the courtyard. The rest of the arm split like a river and surrounded the castle, hiding in the shadows, awaiting the orders of their kings to strike.

Both Peter and Edmund dismounted fluidly and climbed the steps to the front parapets. "Tell the centaurs to have arrow on string. Have the cats sneak around behind the giants. Get some oil up here, now," Peter ordered, hands behind his back as he surveyed the battlefield. "When I give the word, the cats drive the giants to the wall, the centaurs and the others fire. We light the oil on fire and dump it on the giants, and finish off the stragglers."

An advisor nodded and left the castle, telling the field commanders the plan. Peter's jaw tightened as he watched the battle, waiting for the opportune moment. Natasha's hands on his shoulder took him by surprise.

"You alright, Peter?" she murmured. He was too serious, even for Peter.

Edmund grinned and clapped Natasha on the back, "He's just relieved to see you alright, Tasha."

Peter's eyes softened, "Which reminds me," he replied, "Your escort is waiting in the courtyard. You'll arrive at Cair Paravel long before dawn. Susan and Lucy will be waiting for you, and your chambers are ready. It may be a long time before you return to Owlwood, so take only what matters to you."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "No, Peter, I'm staying -."

"As your king," Peter broke in sternly, his eyes now on the menacing side. "I command that you leave immediately, no questions ask, Natasha." Edmund had turned serious now as well and nodded in agreement with his brother.

"This is no place for you. If anything happens to us," Edmund added, "Susan and Lucy will need you." Then he grinned, "Susan especially."

Natasha smiled but her eyes darkened as she looked at the ground. She didn't want to leave her friends, not here, "Very well." Then she turned and did something neither king was expecting. She seized them each swiftly by the face and kissed them roughly on the cheek, "Do me a favor," she said with a smile at the shock on Peter and Edmund's faces, "Don't die."

And with that, she swept down the stairs and within minutes she and her escort were galloping away through the woods in the direction of Cair Paravel.

Peter raised a hand to his cheek, which was now blushing furiously. Despite their surroundings, Edmund was chuckling heavily. To him, Natasha was just another sister whom he loved dearly. But to Peter, she had just become much more.


	4. The Blame Game

**Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen**

**Chapter III**

**The Blame Game**

**Thanks to RED RANGER CHICK! I had no idea where to go from here and poof! Your genius invades my mind! See, reviews DO keep us going!**

**Also, I thought the name Natasha was good because it's pretty in its own right but not too pretty to be unbelievable. Like a girl from Manhattan in the 1940's being called Ariane? Don't think that would work...Also I'm changing the bit about Aslan not knowing how she got there to that he did it.**

**And does anyone EXACTLY what ages the Pevensies were when they got into Narnia? It would help greatly.**

Natasha and her escort rode hard and fast, not slowing until the blaze of fires from Owlwood could no longer be seen dancing through the trees of the forest. For a second, Natasha looked back the way she came, praying to Aslan that Peter and Edmund would be alright. But her mind leaned more towards Peter, for reasons unknown to her. Then they were off again, racing towards Cair Paravel.

It was getting close to dawn when she arrived and the sky was getting lighter by the minute. "Natasha!" Susan called from the gates. Not thinking of her dress and the ground slick with dew, she, followed by Lucy, ran to her. "You're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Su," she insisted as she dismounted the horse. "I'm fine!" she said again and Susan relaxed considerably. "Hello, Lucy," she smiled and gave the younger girl a hug. Natasha had not been able to say good-bye to her before she left, thus she had not seen her in a while.

"We're glad you're alright, Tasha," Lucy replied, "Come," she took her hand, "Your rooms are ready and we're sending runners every hour to Owlwood." Natasha barely stirred and still stood next to Susan. Her mind was racing back to her castle where Peter and Edmund were still fighting. Their plan was brilliant, but she wondered if the thick hides of giants were too strong.

Lucy bit her lip and looked up at Natasha, "I'm sure they'll be alright, Tasha." Still she didn't move, her eyes fixed in the direction of Owlwood. "I'm sure Peter will be alright." Natasha jumped at the sound of Peter's name and Susan gave Lucy a knowing smile behind her back.

"We should get inside," Natasha replied sternly and she took Susan by the hand as well and led them into the castle. "I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight," she muttered to no one in particular.

Susan patted her back gently, "I doubt any of us will."

Despite the circumstances, Lucy broke into a smile, "Sleep over?" Susan and Natasha exchanged glances and brightened. The three took off at a run to Susan's suite, which logically was the largest, and were not disturbed for hours.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Susan and Natasha were dozing on pillows by the fireplace but Lucy was wide awake, drinking some hot cocoa by the window. Her eyes were fixed on the north, now lit by sunlight breaking through the clouds and mist. Suddenly, she gasped, "They're back!" The other two girls were on like a light and jumping from the floor.

"What?" Susan blanched, running to the window. She almost tripped on an ottoman and Lucy had to hold back a laugh. Natasha was already at a window, yanking aside a curtain.

She gasped as well and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh no, no, no," she murmured, shaking her head. "One of them's hurt!" Before Susan and Lucy could comprehend what she was saying, Natasha had snatched her dressing gown and was out the door.

"It's Peter," Susan whispered, seeing the group of knights carrying a litter between their horses. It appeared they had won the battle however, as almost all of their force was still in tact due to the giants' lack of strategy and long range a weapon. "I can tell he'll be fine but," she massaged her temple with her hand, "Natasha is going to have a heart attack over this."

Down at the gates, Natasha was ordering the men to raise the portcullis. Below the steps, the knights were unhooking the stretcher from their horses and two men were going to carry it themselves. Seeing it was Peter, Natasha slipped under the barely opened portcullis ripping her sleeve and ran down to meet them.

Peter was pale and sweaty and a crude bandage was wrapped around his torso. His eyes were closed but he was breathing evenly. Natasha hovered a few feet away, hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. "Oh, Peter," she whispered. Edmund dismounted behind her and took her by the elbow.

"He'll be alright, Tasha," Edmund insisted, leading her after the stretcher into the courtyard. "It wasn't that bad, actually quite funny when I think of it," he gave a small chuckle. Natasha glared at him. If looks could kill, they would be planning Edmund's funeral. "Well," he recomposed himself, "Apparently part of a giant's boot had broken off and one smart bloke decided to throw it up onto the ramparts. Peter got the blunt of it and a couple spikes got his side. It's deep, but not deep enough to cause any real damage."

Natasha could only nod and followed the stretcher like a dead woman. Edmund still held her elbow, as she seemed like she might have problems standing. "He's going to be alright, I promise."

"Thank you, Ed," she replied and gave him a sisterly hug. By then they had reached Peter's suite of rooms and he was being moved to the bed. Natasha faltered outside before Edmund rolled his eyes and pushed her inside. He and his sisters (who had just arrived) follow.

"Peter?" Natasha said in her softest voice, not knowing if he was awake or not. "I guess he's asleep," she whispered to Edmund. She didn't see Peter's face twitch into a smile.

"I guess having my eyes closed automatically makes me asleep," he chuckled, opening his eyes slowly. He motioned to a nearby physician who helped him sit up. Seeing Natasha's drawn and worried face, he smiled, "Just a scratch, Tasha."

At that Lucy jumped and pulled out her cordial, "Here," she unwrapped the bandages carefully. Natasha couldn't help but think that Peter had a very nice torso. Lucy let a drop of liquid fall on each puncture wound and they healed. "I really should come with you to battle."

"Lu, we've had this discussion," Edmund warned and Lucy began to pout and grumble.

"Never get to do anything..." Susan, on the other hand, was watching Natasha. Her hands were shaking slightly and she was staring at a spot on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"You alright, Tasha?" she asked in a worried voice.

Natasha jumped and looked back to Susan. She could feel Peter's eyes on her and felt herself shudder. "I'm fine, just a little shaken." She cleared her throat and wrapped her dressing gown tighter. An awkward silence followed.

"You won't be able to return to Owlwood for a while," Peter broke the silence and found Natasha wouldn't meet his eyes. "It's," he stumbled for a second, looking her over, "It's all burnt and bashed on one side and a few of the giants destroyed part of the tower."

Natasha nodded head, her eyes back on the wall. Peter gave his siblings and the physician a meaningful look. They took his hint and left quietly, leaving the two alone. "Natasha," he used her full name, showing he meant business, "What's wrong?" Peter rose from the bed and took a step towards her.

Natasha wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve, "It's- it's nothing, Peter."

"It's not nothing. I haven't seen you cry since you broke your arm two years ago."

"Thanks for the reminder," she said sarcastically.

Peter crossed his arms, "Natasha." He took another step towards her and Natasha shuddered again. He was now only a few inches from her, and yet he towered over her. He was a head taller and it was a subject of much scrutiny between them. "I think you've shrunk," he said with a warm smile.

Natasha shook her head and a shadow of a smile crossed her face. "I'm- I'm sorry, Peter."

Peter blinked quickly, confused, "Sorry? For what?" He leaned his face closer and he could smell the perfumed scent of her long chestnut hair.

Natasha sighed and turned her head. She couldn't bear to look into his dark, fiery eyes. "You need your rest," she whispered. And with that she left the room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter joined his siblings for breakfast a few hours later. Aside from some soreness in his side, he was perfectly fine. A few moments past of idle chatter before he realized someone had not joined them. "Where's Tasha?"

Susan's head popped up and she looked around the hall. She shrugged her shoulders, "I saw her not an hour ago. She said she needed 'time to think'." Peter said nothing and Edmund just kept on plowing through ham and eggs. Lucy sighed and stood up.

"I'll go get her, you big baby," she said to Peter. The High King blushed furiously and took a long drink of juice. Susan snorted with laughter into her own breakfast and Peter gave her an evil glare.

He played with his food for a second, "I'm not a baby," he muttered. Edmund laughed and clapped him on the back.

"You're not a baby but you are quite transparent."

"Huh?"

Edmund grinned, "And daft."

"Ed-," Peter warned.

"Every single person in this castle, except the one person who should know," Edmund said slowly, "can see that you are head over heels for Tasha."

Peter flushed again and rolled his tongue in his mouth, "Don't deny it, either," Edmund continued. Susan watched them carefully. This was something she had seen coming for a long time.

"Wasn't going to," Peter took another drink and refused to look at his brother. "Do you think she knows? She probably thinks I'm a fool."

Edmund laughed outright, "She is the one person who doesn't!" he exclaimed, waving his arms. "She's so preoccupied with her own feelings she hasn't noticed yours." If Edmund hadn't possessed one shred of propriety, he would have cuffed his brother for his stupidity. "Now she's upstairs, blaming herself for what happened to you, and _Lucy_ is the one who goes up to comfort her? That's not on, Peter."

Peter swallowed, "What do you mean _her feelings_? And how in Aslan's name can she blame herself? She didn't invite the giants to come a' calling."

Edmund rolled his eyes and sighed, "You do this, Susan. I haven't the energy."

Susan smiled and nodded, leaning forward, "Yes, but she did supervise the positioning of the castle. She thinks that if she put it on the far side of the wood from the river, you would have had more time. And she declined your offer to build a wall on the river side of the forest."

"She didn't want to dry up the quarries; she was doing that for the good of Narnia-."

"And she feels bad for arguing with you about her leaving."

"Tasha always was a little too hard on herself," Peter murmured.

Susan smiled again, "As for feelings, you're the only one who doesn't seem to notice she's head over heels for you too."


	5. Barrel of Laughs

**Daughter of Eve**

**Chapter IV - Barrel of Laughs**

**A/N - Thanks for all the reviews guys! Now I'm writing for each story based on how many reviews I get for each new chapter (not for total reviews considering that _Bring On The Rain_ has over 120 reviews...big smile...). Okay, thanks to ErinMB (kisses) I now have the ages of the Pevensies and Natasha as of now: Peter - 18, Natasha - 17, Susan - 17, Edmund - 15, and Lucy - 13. It has been 5 years since the events of LWW. **

Natasha awoke with a start to find herself lying in the cold light of early dawn on the floor of Susan's room. The young queen lay a few feet away, breathing lightly. Lucy was sprawled out on a chaise, a blanket wrapped tightly around her, by Susan no doubt. A silver tray lay on the ottoman by the bed, three empy mugs on it, accompanied by a smoking pitcher of what appeared to be hot chocolate.

The girl sighed to herself and rubbed her head. _It was a dream_. She fought the headache a night of little sleep brought and massaged her temple. Natasha was tired, and peaceful dreams that come to an end were no rest for her. She raised herself from the pillows surrounding her and quietly poured herself a drink. The nymphs that tended to the queen must have snuck in early to bring them such a gift.

She quietly pulled a chair to one of the windows and looked out onto the misty plains that sloped north. _It was only a dream._

--

King Peter looked down from the battlements where the last giants were being chased to the river. He smiled triumphantly while Edmund appeared at his side. "The castle has been almost destroyed," he said, his eyes following the last giant.

Peter sighed, "Natasha won't be happy about that." His mind raced at the thought of it, and he could almost smell another little spat of theirs. Last time it had been about the fuss over the last tournament when he had suggested she let some men win the riding competition this year.

"Scared, Peter?" Edmund chuckled, nudging his brother's shoulder.

The High King grinned, "Terrified." Edmund laughed openly and turned. "I think it's time we return to Cair Paravel," Peter continued and the blonde king nodded. Though he had only been away a night, everything that started with an innocent kiss was set in motion, and inside he could feel his heart beat faster at the thought of Natasha.

--

"It's nearly noon, don't you think they should have arrived by now?" Lucy half-whined, her eyes following Susan's pacing. Natasha stood at her side, the only one in the trio not wearing a circlet of gold.

"I know, all this waiting is hell on my nerves," Susan replied, wringing her hands.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Come on, Sue, the last runner said that the giants had been beaten and both of them were alright."

"Yes, but that was three hours ago, who knows what could have happened?" the Queen snapped. Just like Susan, always worrying about things beyond her control. "And it didn't take them half as long to reach Owlwood-."

"That's because they were riding hard, now they're probably-."

But the far off chirping of a Narnian horn ended the bickering before it could escalate. All three girls turned towards the sound and the portucullis was opened with the creaking of pulleys. Susan was breathless as she squinted towards the horizon, spotting the black dots that were the approaching army. Next to Lucy, Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief, and the young girl took notice.

At the head of the column rode the two kings on white chargers with the standard flying high behind them. Peter raised his hand in greeting to the gatekeepers as the horses of himself, Edmund, and the rest of his advisors trotted into the courtyard. The rest of the army swung farther south to disperse and return to wherever they came from.

"Hello, sisters, Tasha," Peter said as he dismounted. A groom whisked his horse and Edmund's away, until realizing Edmund was still in the saddle. Natasha smiled and then laughed as Edmund dismounted and dusted himself off.

"It's not funny," he said with a pout. Natasha tried not to smile but burst out laughing along with Lucy and small chuckle from Peter.

"Yes it is," they said in unison and continued laughing. Susan even cracked a smile and Edmund crossed his arms with a mumble under his breath. The three continued laughing for a minuter before Natasha stopped and narrowed her eyes.

"Is the castle destroyed?" she said with a wince, bracing herself for an answer.

Peter and Edmund exchanged glances, "Not exactly," Peter replied, fiddling with his thumbs, "but-."

"But? But? But I won't be able to return to my home for Aslan know's how long and I'll have to burden you all with my nutcase self for another month- and why are you laughing at me?" she said in one breath, eyes wide. For a second, it looked as if she was going to breath fire. Peter and Edmund were laughing at something Susan had whispered with a devilish grin. "SUSAN?"

"Relax, Tash, I just said," she giggled and laughed again, "I just said that this isn't the best time of the month for them to be arguing with you."

Natasha froze and her face paled. "I'm moving to Calormene," she muttered and all four Pevensies broke out laughing. This was the Golden Age, a time of laughter and friendship, with spots of spats in between.

--

Natasha was still grumbling at Susan during lunch and Peter and Edmund kept stealing glances at her and laughing. Lucy just ploughed through her lunch, paying no mind to her older siblings and friend, finding them too immature for her ways.

"Cheer up, Natasha, at least you've got the Summer Tournament to look forward to," Susan said with a sigh, deciding to throw her friend a bone. Besides, she and Lucy had come up with a plan to _spice_ up the summer. Natasha brightened considerably. She loved the tournaments held nearly every month at Cair Paravel. "And you know, Prince Beal of Archenland will be coming for the sword fighting."

Lucy perked up and smirked as Peter started coughing uncontrollably. Natasha raised and eyebrow, "You alright, Peter?"

Edmund smiled as well, knowing where Susan was going with this. He thumped his brother on the back a few times before laughing into the back of his hand. "Yes, I heard that he means to beat you this year. His sister Beala told me he's been practicing all winter after what happened last year…"

But his brother's words trailed off in Peter's mind and he could focus on only one thing: Beal made it no secret that he fancied Natasha, and was a determined man. He was the kind that if he set his mind and body to it, it would be his in a fortnight. But Peter could not allow this, not with Natasha on the line.


	6. Tournament Times

Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter VI - Tournament Times

* * *

A/N - Alright, my author's note from the last chapter came out WAY wrong. I did not mean to say that the quality of my chapters would represent the number of reviews, but that my choice in which story to write for next would be influenced by the number of reviews. This is due to the fact of demand; I find the story in most demand should be the story I update first. Savvy?

And yes, I accept all forms of criticism and suggestions! I love meaty reviews!

* * *

"Well then, I should show him a favor as a token of my gratitude for his affections," Natasha replied to Susan, her eyes lowered. She was willing to admit defeat, although she couldn't help but find Beal attractive but a bit on the boring side.

Peter coughed louder then cleared his throat. "You can't be serious, Tasha," he said, his gray eyes boring into hers.

"Can't I?"

Susan and Lucy exchanged glances and Edmund cracked a small smile. "Am I smelling another infamous spat between my dear Natasha and the King?" he said with a smirk. But neither Natasha nor Peter said anything, just continued staring into each others eyes.

"Stage one," Susan muttered. Every time an all-out brawl between Natasha and Peter broke out, they would go through several stages before calling a truce and retreating. Stage one was the staring contest, but stage two was much louder.

"Just because you are my king," Natasha breathed, "Does not mean you can dictate who I can or cannot favor in the tournament." It seemed stage two would start sooner than planned.

Peter scoffed, "I'm not trying to dictate anything," he shot back. "But Beal? Of Archenland? To put this lightly, he's not the sharpest sword in the armory."

Natasha stood angrily and Peter did the same, "Peter Pevensie, take it back!" she roared, her eyes fiery.

"No! You know I'm right!"

Susan stood as well, "Peter, Tasha, please," she pleaded, "Peter, Beal is not an idiot," she sighed, although everyone at the table knew she was lying. "Natasha, please don't yell-."

"FINE!" Both Peter and Natasha yelled at her in unison before storming off in different directions. All three of the remaining Pevensies rolled their eyes and sighed, and would of have banged their heads on the table had it no been made of stone.

"I swear, I'm getting tired of waiting for them to come to their senses," Lucy muttered through bites of toast.

* * *

Natasha wasn't exactly sure why the upcoming tournament was called the 'Summer Tournament', considering it occurred halfway through April. Susan told her it was a celebration for the upcoming summer months, but Natasha found it rather silly, considering the Spring Tournament took place little more than a month before. But no matter what the tournament was called, it was being held the next week, and royalty and dignitaries from Narnia, Archenland, and Calormene had begun arriving that morning.

From her perch, she could see everything going on down in the courtyard. Only Peter and Edmund, along with their various advisors and fellow dignitaries, were greeting them. She knew Lucy and Susan were watching from the elder queen's balcony, but she hadn't the heart to join them. The Lady of Owlwood had yet to speak to Peter after their argument at breakfast two days prior, and she was receiving all kinds of prodding from the Pevensie girls to make up with him.

Her chestnut hair whipped around her in the light breeze as she sat cross legged on the stone banister, her back against the wall of the castle. She sighed to herself and closed her eyes. Below her, she could hear Beal's voice as he arrived with his siblings and his own entourage. It was going to be a long day.

"Natasha?" Susan's voice broke her thoughts. The young queen stood in the doorway, her feast dressed donned already. It seemed that her hair and crown were the only pieces left to her outfit for the night.

Natasha sighed to herself and slid off the stone banister and back onto the balcony. Susan had a gift for sensing a person's presence, hiding or no. She wrapped her thin arms around herself and shut the balcony doors behind her. "Yes, Susan?"

"By the Lion, you're not dressed yet?" Susan exclaimed with a sigh and a shake of her head. "Dear, what am I going to do with you?" She threw open the giant bureau opposite the four-poster bed and sighed again. "Hunter, hunter, hunter," she muttered as she flipped through the clothing, "Honestly, all you wear are hunter dresses!" Natasha's hunters were mostly a dark green or navy, and had high collars and heavy skirts. Susan had one and it was a flouncing pink that hurt both Natasha and Lucy's eyes.

"Never you mind, I'll get something of mine," Susan muttered, continuing on even though Natasha's mind was obviously somewhere else. With a certain someone else, in fact.

* * *

Peter and Edmund had somehow managed to steal a moment alone in the flurry of arriving competitors and dignitaries alike. They were tucked down a long hallway decked with tapestries and suits of armors.

"So, you're seriously still carrying on this little vendetta of yours with Tasha?" Edmund muttered, his eyes solemn and arms crossed. Despite his young age, he was already forming the basis to become Edmund the Just.

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Vendetta?" he echoed, "Edmund, please. She and I both know Beal is a fool for a pretty face, and forgets as quickly as he falls in love." Edmund raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.

"Are you sure she knows that?" he said quietly. Peter froze and his eyes softened. With a strong hand, he pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was getting quite long now, well past his ears, but those thoughts were pushed to the back of his head.

"No," he answered hoarsely and lowered his eyes. His younger brother could always make him think. "She doesn't think about things like that."

"Well, she needs to," Edmund retorted with a snap. Then he rubbed his forehead, "Sorry," he muttered, "But, Natasha doesn't realize," he searched for the right words. Natasha had become a touchy subject with his brother. "She carries great appeal to- to men of power." Peter's head snapped up and his eyes sparked with an inner fire.

"What do you mean?" His tone was almost violent in nature and he glanced around suspiciously.

Edmund sighed, wishing he didn't have to go into this. "She has a title, and she's- well, we both know she's beautiful," he said with a nervous laugh. Peter couldn't help but nod his head and laugh as well. It was no secret that Susan was the beauty of the family, but Natasha had something different about her.

She had dark hair, but her eyes were almost luminous, a green like the grass in spring. She wasn't as tall as Susan, but she wasn't a dwarf either. But the thing Peter found most attractive was her fiery personality, her unwillingness to admit defeat. It was something he had loved since he had met her and he enjoyed their arguments like a sport.

Edmund noticing his brother smiling slowly to himself and knew where his thoughts lay. "Come, Peter," he said, laying a firm hand on Peter's toned shoulder. "Let's meet our guests."


	7. A Banquet

**Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen**

**Chapter VII - A Banquet**

* * *

Peter was seated at the center of the great table on the dais with Edmund seated on his left. The two seats on his right were being saved for Susan and then Natasha and Lucy would be on Edmund's left. Across from the High King, Beal and his sister, Beala, along with one of the many princes of Calormene sat chatting happily with each other. Well, Beal and Beala were. The Calormene prince sat muttering to the slave standing behind him and called for more wine as the day went on.

"Good to see you again, Highness," Beal said with a genuine smile, raising his goblet slightly. Peter gave him a tight smile and waved his hand.

"Please, Beal, how many times have I asked you to call me Peter?" Edmund could tell his brother's words were forced and a smirk rose to his lips.

Beal grinned and nodded his head, "Very well." Then he looked around, his blonde hair reflecting the many candles and torches lining the high walls. Outside, the rising moon cast an eerie glow on the tall windows behind the dais. "If you don't mind my asking, sire- Peter," he said, "But Lady Natasha wouldn't be joining us tonight, by any chance?"

His words hung in the air like vapor for a moment and Peter had to regain his composure and coughed. He glanced to Edmund for help and the younger boy smiled. He could tell his brother was fighting against the urge to hit Beal across the face.

Edmund cleared his throat, "The girls should be along at any moment, Beal," he offered in the absence of his brother's answer. Next to Beal, the Princess of Archenland, Beala, smiled. She was Beal's twin, and like him, was twenty.

"I have been missing the queens and Natasha terribly," she said. Beala was of an agreeable sort, quiet and proper. She had an easy smile and a heart-shaped face that was more suited to her brother. Many an advisor had tried to press Peter into a courtship with her. "I've heard the giants led an assault on Owlwood. How did her residence fair?"

Peter sighed, grateful for a change of subject. At least Natasha wasn't directly involved. "Not very well. A side of the tower is all smashed in and the gate side was burned rather badly. Natasha is staying here until-."

The High King was cut off by the guards at the head of the hall opening the high double doors and one of them called out. "My lords and ladies, I present Their Highnesses Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, sisters to the High King, and Her Ladyship, Natasha of Owlwood."

Dressed in complimenting shades of lavender, Susan and Lucy entered, followed by Natasha a few steps behind. Susan's dress was trimmed in white lace with a long train and it was obvious she was wearing a corset. Lucy, on the other hand, was quite more casual, with only a simple empire waist dress tied with a white sash.

Behind them, Natasha felt quite awkward in one of Susan's new gowns. A soft canary yellow, she too had been forced into a corset and felt as if she was being squeezed to death. It had a hunter collar, but instead of rising to her throat, the center piece plunged to below her collar bone, showing a gold necklace given to her on the day of the Pevensies' coronation. Her hair was swept up in an almost Greek fashion, but she wore no crown, unlike Susan and Lucy.

"Ah, here are the girls," Edmund said and rose along with the rest of the table. He noticed his brother never took his eyes off of Natasha and raised an eyebrow, as a small signal to Susan.

Natasha took her seat next to Susan and gave everyone a tentative smile. She always felt insignificant among princes and kings, though she was knighted by the High King and a Lady of Narnia. "Hello, Prince Beal, Princess Beala," she said with a smile. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Peter's hand loosen his collar and cough. She loved it when he was frustrated. Somehow, it made him seem more attractive in her eyes.

"Lady Natasha, a pleasure to see you, as always," Beal said in a husky voice. His eyes twinkled at the sight of her beauty. A muscle in Peter's cheek tightened slowly.

"So, Natasha," the High King said quickly, turning the conversation away from the Archenland prince. "Have you decided to compete this time around?" He had a small smile as he spoke, knowing for sure that she would enter a competition or two.

Natasha smirked back, "Of course!" she exclaimed, "I'm entering in country riding, and perhaps shall challenge Susan in archery." Susan scoffed and Natasha gave her a playful nudge. "Come now, you know I could!"

"I must admit, all that practicing has done you good," Susan replied with a smile. She winked at her friend and laughed. "Speaking of competitions, what will you be entering, Beal?"

Beal cleared his throat and smirked, "Just the jousting, sword, the horse racing, the longbow archery, and perhaps the combat circle." His eyes twinkled as he smirked, and Peter did not like it. Not one bit.

"Just?" Natasha echoed, "Goodness, you've got even Peter beaten." She meant her comment to be comical, but instead a stony silence fell on the banquet, with only herself and Beal allowing themselves a smile. Natasha blushed, knowing her comment had struck a nerve in the High King.

Lucy glanced around nervously, "I'm entering in the foot races," she offered, breaking the tension. The other three Penvensies turned their heads quickly towards her and rolled their eyes.

"No you aren't," they said in unison. Lucy frowned and went back to her meal, grumbling to herself.

Natasha chuckled to herself but her eyes seemed pained and her breath was coming in small gasps. She was suddenly aware of the many torches throwing heat into the 'crowded' room, pulsing with a stifling warmth. Susan turned to her to comment on her hair when she noticed her friend was flushed.

She raised an eyebrow, "Alright, Natasha?" she asked quietly. Only Beal and Peter heard the two women.

"I think-," Natasha said with small pants, "I think I need some air." Susan noted the sheen of sweat on her collarbone reflecting the firelight as Natasha rose from the table.

"What is it?" she made to rise as well but Natasha waved her back down.

"It's nothing," Natasha replied. "Excuse me," she said in a stronger voice to the rest of the table. She turned and let herself quietly out of the long hall to a murmur of good-byes. Peter eyed her retreating figure and Edmund couldn't help notice Beal doing the same.

* * *

**Sorry so short but I wanted to devote the next chapter to a little heart-to-heart that has been a long time coming for two certain someones. Splitting it up would not only be stupid but evil as well, and seeing as I'm such a nice person, I'll get right on the next chapter.**

**Happy reading and reviewing!**


	8. A Heart to Heart

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Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XIII - A Heart to Heart

Omigod, I'm sooo sorry this update has taken so long. I have another fic I'm working on, plus school has been really hectic…I just FAILED my first test! Sob, Honors Algebra 2 sucks.

Natasha stepped out onto the terrace, trying to take deep breaths of the cool night air. The refreshing breeze played across her creamy skin and she smiled, shutting her eyes to the night. She took a step off the raised stone and onto the marble path through the gardens of Cair Paravel. Ahead of her, a stone fountain gurgled softly, melding with the chirping of the nightingales in the apple trees. The blossoms were almost in full bloom and the cherry trees stretched far down the hill and ran up to the garden gate.

The woman stood out vibrantly in her canary dress against the cool greens and soft lavenders of the grasses and flowers. Peter couldn't miss her as she stooped slowly, letting her hand play in the second tier of the trickling fountain before sitting down on the fountain ledge. She splashed her face and Peter watched the rose color in her cheeks recede.

"Natasha?" His voice echoed down the soft slope of the hill. She turned, her eyes wide, and her soft curls rippled in the gentle wind. Her gold jewelry jingled and she smiled.

"Oh, Peter. You- you startled me," she stuttered, refusing to say she had felt a twinge of fright. Peter relaxed into a grin. He folded his hands behind his back and took a step towards her, his leather boots sounding neatly on the walkway. "Is the banquet over?"

He chuckled to himself, "No, I only managed to escape under the farce of coming after you. Just more of Beal going on about his trip to Calormene and sweeping the tournaments in the Islands."

Natasha laughed with him and shrugged. "I guess," she muttered, her eyes darkening. The subject of Beal was still a bit of sketchy ground between Peter and Natasha. A muscle in Peter's jaw tightened and he shifted uncomfortably. "There's talk of marriage," Natasha said in little more than a whisper. Her hand clenched and unclenched on the cool stone and her brow furrowed.

Slowly, Peter sat beside her on the ledge of the fountain. He tentatively took her hand in his own. Despite the roughness of his palm and the calluses on his fingers, Natasha couldn't help feeling a warm gush of emotion when she felt how well her hand rested in his own. "What did Beal say?"

She shook her head, "_He_ didn't say anything. I heard it from the ladies of the court, and Beala mostly. She says that she expects him to propose before the tournament's end. She says it will create a great alliance between Narnia and Archenland."

"I don't think Beala is a reliable source of information for something like this," Peter said in a soothing voice. He awkwardly patted her back and searched her eyes for some sort of answer.

She stared at the ground with such intensity that would make a giant quail. "I will not be sold as some treaty," she whispered viciously, her drumming her freehand on the carved stone.

Peter sighed heavily and removed his hand from her back, running it up her shoulder and cupping her cheek. Slowly, her turned her head to face him. He found she would not meet his gaze. Tears welled and they twinkled in the moonlight. A single drop coursed down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. She sniffed and hesitantly raised her eyes.

"One cannot imprison the summer wind, nor catch a cloud and pin it down. A mere man cannot tame the wild mare, and I swear, Natasha, I swear by the Lion, I will let no man tame you." Peter's voice was filled with conviction and Natasha gave him a small smile. She leaned forward and tenderly kissed him on the cheek before pulling him into a sisterly embrace.

"Thank you, Peter. I don't-," she sighed and pulled back. He tightly held her hands in his. "I don't know what I'd do without you, my king." She said the last words with reverence and he couldn't help but blush furiously. Natasha bent and kissed his knuckles and pressed his hand to her forehead, as subjects did with their lords, before rising from her seat.

Peter stood as well, "You know I hate it when you do that, Tasha." She smirked and nodded.

"I know," she laughed. She turned and began walking, but not back to the banquet. With the moonlight turning darkness into cool-colored day, she could see far down the slopes of the terraced gardens and over the water of the ocean. Her hair floated in the breeze and she began to sing softly to herself, her hand grazing over beds of brightly colored flowers.

"Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes."

Peter rose to his feet, watching her sing softly to herself. He barely recognized that song anymore, and barely remembered where it came from. It had been so long ago when he had been nothing but an English schoolboy in a place he did not know. Natasha was from New York, and upon further pressing after their meeting, it was revealed she was a city girl, born and bred in Manhattan, daughter of a 5th Avenue socialite and a broker at the New York Stock Exchange. She had two younger brothers, twins in fact, who were barely four years old the last time she saw them. At first, she missed her home terribly, missed the sounds and sights of New York and her annoying but loving family. But years passed and she slowly forgot her home. But she never forgot the song.

"Balance yourself like a bird on a beam, in the air she goes, there she goes."

"I love that song," Peter murmured, his voice resonating in a deep timbre. "What is it about?"

Natasha sighed and put a hand on her hip, the other on her chin, "You know," she laughed, "I don't even remember anymore." Her laugh wasn't cold or cheerful, but bittersweet. Peter watched her with a small smile before taking her hand in his own again. Natasha couldn't tell if it was in a brotherly manner or - something else. "It's amazing how much I've forgotten- we've forgotten."

They took a step forward in unison, arm-in-arm, like they did on so many summer nights when they were not quarrelling. It was growing colder by the second. "We should be getting inside," Peter said.

"Yes," she replied absentmindedly, her eyes staring away down the hill at the sea. "They will be missing you."

Beside her, the High King cleared his throat and tightened his grip on her hand before turning his head to face her in the twilight dark. "They are missing you too."

Natasha couldn't remember a time when a voice or face had caused a stir in her, and she could only stare in reply.

"Come, the dancing will have begun."

Review, my dearies! Sorry for the wait!


	9. Dreaming in the Dark

Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter IX - Dreaming In The Dark

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OMG, can we say REVIEW EXPLOSION? Wow, thanks so much for the support, especially Elessar-Love as your constructive criticism is one of my great loves (I even like flames, go figure). I promise to take every suggestion to heart and will try to reply to any more reviews in a timely fashion as I cannot do so here. Sigh.

Btw, the kiss a few people seemed to be confused about was the peck on the cheek Natasha gave Edmund and Peter before leaving Owlwood, and Peter's injury was the dream.

And OMFG, the movie was FABULOUS. WILLIAM MOSELY IS HOT. PERIOD. I will marry that boy. And Susan looked just like my friend Sam, it was creepy but cool. Also, I'm keeping Peter's appearance the same to that as the book (brown hair, gray eyes) although him being a blonde was nice.

Also, I've decided to address the issue of Natasha's past and how she first stumbled into Narnia. And, Aslan, as many of you have pointed out to me, would and now does know how she came to be in his country, so this will be a bit of a flashback chapter.

* * *

It was summer, her favorite time of year. Like she did every year since her fifth birthday, Natasha Boregard and her mother had left Manhattan in favor of the fresh air of the upstate horse stables. It was one of the few things the two females shared, their love of horses. Elizabeth Boregard and her daughter were as different as night and day, so to speak, despite the fact they shared many of the same genetic traits. They never understood each other, even after Natasha returned from Narnia a queen. It was something Natasha would always lament.

Natasha was twelve and had just begun to be able to navigate the trails of Wickham Park Stables when it had happened. The summer winds had blown a heavy fog into the shallow wood and she had lost her way in the damp forest. At first she wasn't frightened and leapt at another chance for independence, spurring her chestnut Thoroughbred into a gallop along the narrow trail. Only when the sun began its slow descent and darkness crept through the fog did she feel fear wrap its cold fingers around her heart.

She pulled her horse to a walk and then to a halt, her hair wild around her face. "Hello?" she called, barely able to see the trees around her. She heard a bush rustle in reply. The girl stiffened and twisted in the saddle, squinting in the direction of the noise. "Mother?" Her voice was laced with desperation, "Hello?"

Again, the bush rustled, but this time she could distinctly hear footfalls. Not those calculated steps of a person, or the tell-tale hoof beats of a horse. No, these were something else. The slow, soft padding of God-knew-what echoed on the deserted trail, "Hello?" Natasha repeated, her voice rising to a frightened yell. A low growl greeted her and she choked back a sob as her horse reared. She kicked the stallion into a gallop and the heavy animal pounded along down the trail back towards the stables. But the mysterious beast gave chase.

This time it snarled, and Natasha could hear the snap of sharp teeth. "Come on!" she yelled, snapping her riding crop against the horse's flanks. Now the beast was snapping at the Thoroughbred's back legs, causing the poor horse to veer off course, almost as if deliberately turning the poor thing off the trailer into the maze of the forest. "No!" the girl yelled, trying to pull the animal back onto the trail.

All she remembered was the burning cold of snow and a roar.

* * *

Natasha came to surrounded by a world of white and she sat up sharply, nearly blinded by the afternoon sun on the snow around her. Instinctively, she drew her arms around her body and curled over her knees. When her eyes had adjusted, she chanced a look around. She noticed the snow first. 'But it's summer_,' she though to herself. Then, flapping in the wind, a crimson flag stood out against the landscape like a river in the desert. _

A split-second of quick thinking later, she had decided to head for the flag, praying she'd meet someone civilized who could help her and explain what had happened. She stumbled to her feet, her riding boots slipping in the snow, when she noticed a long shadow ripple to life next to her. Natasha whirled around, coming face to face with the last thing she expected to see. A golden lion stood on the glistening snow, larger than life and clear as day. The girl gasped and took a step back, slipping on a spit of ice and falling back into the ankle-deep snow. Her whole body shivered and the lion advanced forward, now standing over her calmly.

Her hands flew through the snow, searching for something, anything, that could possibly defend her from this beast. But it's sudden speech made her freeze, and not from the blistering cold.

"Peace, Daughter of Eve."

She found herself immobile and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Who- what- where-?" was all she could manage in small whispers.

"You are in Narnia, Daughter," the lion replied slowly, his eyes level and unwavering in his stare. "I have brought you here so that you may save this country."

"Who are you?" Natasha said softly, looking up at the golden figure. All this was nearly too much for her to process. "Save this country?"

But the Great Lion chuckled heartily. "One question at a time, Daughter. I am Aslan, the Great Lion, Son of the Emperor-over-the-Sea. And all will be revealed in time. But I am afraid we are short of time, my dear, and you are half-frozen." He bowed his great head, and, like a mother cat with her kittens, helped her to her feet. "Come, Natasha," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet she found herself catching every word.

And like a silent ghost, she followed Aslan over the hill to the red flag. As they walked, Natasha thought she felt the air warming with every passing minute, and the snow seemed to melt beneath Aslan's great paws. Talking lions, snow in summer, this was ludicrous. Simply ludicrous.

"This must be a dream," Natasha said out loud, her pace slowing.

Aslan only smiled. "What is the difference between a dream and the real world, Daughter? Is_ there a difference? Or is it only you yourself who thinks there is?" She felt silent, having most of what he said fly right over her head. But years later, she would remember. And swear never to forget. _

He led her down a wide avenue, beaten down by the passing of dozens of creatures of Aslan's Army. Tents were being raised all around them, but work halted as they passed and the creatures stood to attention and saluted the lion. He nodded to several, mainly the centaurs, while Natasha began rubbing her arms against the cold. She felt severely out of place here, where it seemed talking animals and mythical beasts were the norm while humans like herself seemed to be rare indeed.

"Enter, Daughter," Aslan said, breaking apart her thoughts like shards of glass. They stood in front of a particularly ornate scarlet and gold tent at the head of the camp. He held open the door flap with his heavy paw.

Natasha didn't want to mince words with this Great Lion, so she decided being blunt would work best. "What do you mean, save this country?" she blurted out as soon as she had sat down.

Aslan sighed heavily and sat himself, crossing his paws in front of him like a lap dog. "I'm afraid I can't give you the details, Daughter, or else all our endeavors will be for naught. All I can say is you will save this country, years from now, from darkness and despair."

* * *

But it's summerIs 

Natasha awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open in the darkness of her bedchamber. She sat up slowly, shivering in the twilight of the moon. The door to the balcony was open, letting in the ocean breeze, crisp and cold in the spring air. Silky white curtains billowed like clouds and she slipped out of the bed and padded across the rich carpet softly. The girl made to shut the doors, but the sound of a masculine grunt and sing of steel made her halt and cross the stone. She barely noticed the shock of the icy rock winding it's way around her legs like ivy. Her eyes were fixed on the lone figure in the courtyard below.

She could tell from the familiar fighting stance that it was Peter. He was practicing for the tournament, and in the light of a single flickering torch, his shadow ran out behind him like a great black standard. For a moment, Natasha debated calling out to him but held her tongue. She didn't know why she fell silent, but she found herself frozen to the spot, watching him for what seemed like hours. But she was no White Witch; she could not bear the cold forever. And so, she turned, shutting the balcony door quietly behind her, shutting out the cold, the night, and the moment that could have been.

Hope this is up to scratch with all my faithful! Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	10. Changes

Daughter of Eve: Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter IX - Changes

* * *

Just _The Chronicles of Narnia_ for the second time…I am so in love with this story. Like it has become the wonder of my existence. Aside from my bestest buds of course, and all my LOVELY reviewers.

Also, as an early Christmas gift, this fan fiction is dedicated to SAMMY! I 3 her; we share a brain!

* * *

Dawn broke over Narnia, pouring yellow light onto the white palace of Cair Paravel. Peter's room overlooked the glassy turquoise sea, his balcony dominating the east side of the bedroom wing. His muscles felt taut beneath his silk nightshirt and he stretched like a great cat, groaning against the warm bed sheets. The night before echoed in his mind, his conversation with Natasha ringing in his ears.

She was afraid, he thought bitterly, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. _She was afraid and I couldn't do anything to help her. I should gut that Beal for what he's doing to her. _But he couldn't let his anger get the best of him; not today, at least. Today he needed his wits about him, he needed to win. Today, the tournament begun.

he thought bitterly, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. But he couldn't let his anger get the best of him; not today, at least. Today he needed his wits about him, he needed to win. Today, the tournament begun. 

Today could be the day. The day she may be swept away by someone _not _the High King.

* * *

The tournament was set to begin a few hours after sunrise, marked by a great procession of the Narnian royalty and various nobility and dignitaries who had come to Cair Paravel. Normally, at a brisk pace, the ride wouldn't have taken fifteen minutes, but what with the slow gait of the heavy chargers and various servants and litters it took the better part of an hour. Natasha spent it in silence, staring blankly into her horse's wild mane. Susan and the others knew she was on edge about something, and only Peter knew what. He would glance warily back to her from time to time, hoping for anything, a single word maybe, just so he would know she would be alright. But he was afforded no such luxury, at least, not until they took their seats underneath the vaulted ceiling of the great crimson tent on a raised platform. A small, semi-circular, three-row arena had been built during the Pevensie's first year as kings and queens especially for tournaments such as this.

Their hands touched, if only for a moment. A brush of skin against skin. In that small moment, he felt her shiver at his touch and relax at the same time. He smiled, feeling the warmth rush back into her again. But they parted; he seated next to Prince Rabadash with Edmund on his right, while Natasha, merely a Lady, was seated farther down the line of nobility, much closer to Beal than Peter would have liked. Susan sat stiffly next to Rabadash, a smile on her face, while Lucy could only grimace at the Calormene prince.

A Calormen poet had been brought with Prince Rabadash, and the prince insisted that the sniveling little man open the week-long tournament.

"My lords and ladies," he said in a small, breathy voice, bowing lower with each word, "my kings and queens," he continued, nodding to the Pevensies, "and His Majesty Prince Rabadash." At this, a small murmur went through the crowd of people and Rabadash smirked to himself, sitting up a little higher on his throne. "It is my honor to be before you now. As the great poet Ascartin once said, _To kneel at the feet of such company-_…"

His light voice felt like it was driving a spike between Peter's eyes and he tried to drown him out with his thoughts. First his mind drifted to past battles, to Aslan, to the White Witch. Then he thought of the tournament to come, how the happiness, and possibly the freedom, of a friend depended on the events that would take place either during or after. Slowly, Natasha dominated his mind, seemingly seeping through his very existence. That kiss, he could still feel the warmth, the electricity of her lips on his cheek. Without thinking, he raised a firm hand to his cheek, tenderly touching the spot that still tingled with memory. Peter was puzzled by his reaction; Natasha was like a sister to him. He couldn't think about her this way.

Natasha looked at her hands, the poets words falling on deaf ears. She toyed with the hems of her sleeves, hearing only her thoughts sound in her ears. What Peter had said to her, it had been so right, so _true. _There was no lie in his eyes. He truly felt like he was her protector. And wasn't protector just another word for husband?

Husband? her mind yelled, making her jump in her seat. How could she possibly even dream of such of thing. Peter was- well, Peter! Peter, who had laughed when she had fallen into the stream. Peter, who was a better person than she could hope to be. Peter, who had sworn never to fail her. Peter, who had held her hand while she cried bitter tears. Peter, who she could never live without.

She couldn't believe she had never seen it before. It was then, sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair, staring at the grass beneath her feet, that Lady Natasha of Owlwood had the epiphany that would change her life. She was in love with Peter Pevensie, High King of Narnia, and captor of her heart. Her breath came in short puffs, her heart beating loudly in her ears. The world seemed to spin around her and she felt light-headed and almost nauseous. _Peter. _She loved Peter. Nothing in the world could be so simple and yet so very, very complicated.

"It is with the greatest of joys that I open the Great Summer Tournament to show good faith and union of honorable Calormen, Archenland, Narnia and it's various territories. Like Tubuli said, _Great is the harmony that_-," but the centaurs set at intervals along the tent, now pawing the ground anxiously, raised their horns in unison, their trumpeting drowning out the Calormene. Peter raised a hand and they fell silent as the High King rose to his feet.

"Welcome, friends," he said, nodding his head to the left and the right. "I thank you for joining myself and my siblings in our celebration." Then he smiled, his eyes twinkling, "I can see there are some eager to begin, so without further ado, I declare the Summer Tournament open!"

The small crowd broke into a small roar of approval and applause, the air of excitement slowly spreading over the tournament grounds. But Natasha felt like a ghost as she clapped, her limbs numb to her own touch. She stared vacantly at the ground, not believing the words her heart was telling her.

You love Peter.

"I love Peter," she murmured, her low voice lost in the swell of clapping and eager voices. But they fell silent as Oreius, Captain of the Centaurs and Peter's most trusted soldier, trotted his way to the middle of the dirt tournament ring.

"First," he said simply, not wasting his breath on useless titles or flattery, "we have the contest of unarmed combat. There are eight entrants, and so, there shall be four rounds. In the first match of the first round, we have Prince Beal of Archenland facing Ordon, Second Lord of Galma." There was a smattering of clapping, except, as Susan found, the High King did not stir as Beal and Ordon walked out into the ring. Her brother was watching someone out of the corner of his eye, and she followed his gaze.

Natasha. He was watching her. Susan couldn't help but smile, her eyes twinkling. It would be any day now.

* * *

CS June - Apparently I can't re-reply, so whatev. I just said I love Howard Shore (LotR) and John Williams too, along with some "normal" music. And I love ANYONE who hates math as much as I do!

* * *


	11. Narnian Rapture

Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter X - Narnian Rapture

* * *

OMG SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT! I was just really, really blocked when it came to Narnia, yet ideas for my other fic just poured out of me. Not to mention the fact one of my best friends loves that one and keeps bugging me to update it. Whatever, I've decided to speed up the action a bit, since this story is moving kind of slow.

And this may be a bit short, but POWERFUL, inspired by the Narnian Lullaby tune. Expect Peter/Natasha action!

Enjoy!

* * *

The hand-to-hand competition had all but been finished; Peter was to face Beal the next day before the horse races. Natasha could feel the tension in air at dinner that night and could barely touch her food. At Peter's request, she had been seated on the left of Susan. He hated leaving her out, but hated seeing her next to Beal more.

Dinner was served, with the same bit of gossip of the ladies and bravado-laden talk from the men hanging in the air.

"So I said thus and so to him and he said thus and so to me-."

"The Tournament of Tash was quite large this year, with eight dozen men in-."

"-and then Lady Dalia wanted to wear the red dress to the banquet but of course Lena wouldn't have it-."

"Lord Borwhol of Doorn nearly beat Prince Matar in the joust but his horse tripped at the last moment-."

But all the chatter wound down as the dinner slowed to a halt. As the last plates were taken away, Mr. Tumnus stood from his seat and took his place in the center of the banquet hall. The four tables fell silent as they looked up expectantly at the faun, and even Rabadash smirked only a little at him. Susan, Edmund, and Lucy looked at him expectantly, their plan set in motion.

"My lords and ladies, it is tradition that in the court of King Peter, a traditional dance of Narnia will be performed," He took a breath and glanced at Lucy, almost winking at her. "Conventionally, the dance is performed by nymphs of the River Beruna, but this year, we hope that His Majesty, High King Peter, and her ladyship, Natasha of Owlwood, would grace us with their rendition of a Narnian song of rhapsody."

Both Natasha and Peter looked up sharply, eyes wide. They both knew the dance, well, in fact, as they were taught before their first trip to Archenland, where Beal's brother Lune was king. Neither had danced with each other though; it was quite a sensual dance.

There was a smatter of clapping from the guests, but Peter caught the echo of a snicker coming from Lucy and he glared at her, a flush creeping into his cheeks. Natasha did the same with Susan, who simply put on her best innocent face. Before Tumnus could prompt them, they rose from their seats, walking towards the open floor. The faun backed away, pan flute in hand, and stood in the shadows of the dancing torches, raising the instrument to his lips. Natasha and Peter took their places, awkwardly avoiding each-other's eyes. Natasha was glad she had refused to let Susan wear a Calormene corset that night

How did we become such strangers? they both thought.

Peter moved one hand to her waist, his breath quickening. _When did Natasha become a woman?_

His hand felt warm and strong in her own. _He's always been a king. When did he become a man?_

The music started, slow and haunting. The first few notes were soft and breathy, floating on an invisible wind. Natasha spun with the music, her skirts moving with her, so that Peter was at her back. His hand stayed as she moved, resting on the front of her stomach, and his breath tickled her exposed collarbone. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment and she nearly forgot her steps.

Tumnus continued, the notes becoming faster. Peter took her other hand and spun her; Natasha's face was now so close he could smell the scent of her soap. His other hand was now on the small of her back, supporting her weight as he lowered her towards the floor. She leaned her head back, eyes half-closed, hair nearly brushing the floor. Her hands clung to his neck as he pulled her back up, then moved back to his hands as he spun her from himself reluctantly.

The pan flute was joined by a harp and then a light wood flute, weighing down the song. Peter and Natasha's pace quickened with the music and her skirts seemed to dance with them. His hair fell onto his brow and into his eyes, now seemingly flaming with the reflection from the torchlight.

Their bodies moved together with the music, perfectly in tune with one another. The dance was not lewd in any respect, but passionate and all in the room could see it. Peter's siblings couldn't help but smile at the dancing pair. It was working.

Natasha's mind was reeling and the song's ending neared. She knew it would come to an end, but wasn't sure she wanted it to. Peter gave her a last twirl before raising her off the ground by the waist, ending by lowering her again.

This time, she kept her eyes open and Peter stared back at her. She saw something she had never seen in his eyes, something she _never_ thought she would see. Lust was etched into his features, into his eyes and very soul. But it passed as quickly as it came.

Applause erupted around them and the guests stood, clapping for Peter and Natasha. For a moment, neither of them moved, simply staring at each-other. But the sudden rise in the crowd rushing to join them on the dance floor.

"Goodnight," Natasha said, dropping Peter's hands and turned away, making her way out of the hall. Her heart was beating in her brain and she dared not look back. "Goodnight."

* * *

Peter nearly called out to her as she moved away, stretching out a hand to stop her. But he felt as if some force was pulling him away. Away from something he _wanted_. Suddenly, he felt his brother at his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?" Edmund muttered, watching her slip out into the hallway. "Go get her, Peter."

Peter didn't need to be told twice; he moved like a cat through his guests, slipping out after her. He could just see her shadow moving as she climbed the first steps of the great staircase. "Natasha!"

He called to her and she froze, turning her head. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights and she took a shaky breath. Peter took a few steps towards her, his leather boots echoing off the walls of the empty foyer. She found feeling in her feet again and she turned away, meaning to run. "Natasha, wait!" He darted after her, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "Talk to me! You could always talk to me!"

Even in the dim light he could see her shaking and when he saw her face properly, he could see tears threatening to spill. "I _can't_ talk to you anymore!" she roared back, choking back sobs. "Don't you understand? Every time I see you it gets harder, I can't _do _this anymore, Peter!"

Peter looked taken aback and he didn't speak for a moment. He looked completely out of his element and had no idea what to say. He only folded his arms behind his back and cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. "I- I'm not sure-."

"Peter, you can be so stupid sometimes!" she sighed, rushing back down the steps towards him. She hastily took his face her hands and he felt the breath leave him. Peter could see the flecks of gray in her pale green eyes and he could smell her again. "Don't take this the wrong way," she murmured, leaning down.

Their lips met in a frenzy of heated passion, one-sided at first. But Peter suddenly felt himself melting into her kiss, exploring the inside of her mouth. The world seemed to spin and she pulled away slowly, biting her lip. "Goodnight," she breathed in his ear.

* * *


	12. Love Requited

Daughter of Eve: The Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XI - Love Requited

* * *

He did not, in fact, take it the wrong way. Instead, he had followed her, having to nearly break down her door until she reluctantly opened it, tears dried on her cheeks. The king took her in his arms, forever claiming her that night. Neither man nor beast could ever, or would ever change that. She had pushed him away, out into the darkened hall, laughing as she wiped away the rouge that had found its way from her lips to his. His smile had lightened her heart, silenced all her doubts, and the glint in his eye made her feel mischievous. It took all her strength to shut the door again and once she heard his footsteps die away, she slid to the floor a giddy smile on her face as she laughed aloud. What she didn't know was that somewhere in the castle, Peter was doing the same.

The next morning came quickly and Peter had thrown propriety to the wind, seating Natasha on his right in Edmund's stead. His younger brother did not protest, but instead sat quietly next to her, grinning like a fool. Lucy and Susan couldn't help but steal glances at her, speaking volumes in their eyes as only girls can. Peter only held her hand tightly in his own, his shoulder tipped towards her so they could whisper together, laughing at one another behind their hands. Rabadash paid little attention to the distracted king who was his host, but instead took this opportunity to talk with Susan.

Natasha unwillingly let go of Peter's hand as he rose in time with Prince Beal, and the two royals left the seats in favor of their respective tents, both changing from their tunics of silk and crowns of gold into their fighting gear (which was simply a cotton tunic, red for Peter, blue for Beal, belted with thick leather over black hose and tight leather boots).

Shifting nervously in her seat, Natasha couldn't help but ring her hands. As Peter had said, Beal wasn't the sharpest sword in the armory and probably did not notice exactly how close she had become to the High King. She only prayed that Peter wouldn't become distracted by her presence, or by anything Beal said. His mind needed to be on the tournament, not on her.

The two men reappeared within moments, both facing each other from opposite ends of the arena. Peter's brow was furrowed and his fists repeated clenched and unclenched while Beal merely grinned, waving to the various ladies, duchesses, and princesses who collapsed into fits of giggles when he looked their way. Natasha felt her stomach turn as she watched them stride towards each other.

"And in the final match of the unarmed combat, Prince Beal of Archenland will face His Majesty, High King Peter of Narnia," Oreius rumbled, standing between the two men.

Beal foolishly stepped forward, tossing his blonde hair, a hand outstretched in Natasha's direction. "I will win this match for-!" he began, eyeing her fiercely, but Peter cut in front of him, silencing the prince.

"I will win in the name of Natasha, Lady of Owlwood," he said firmly, his voice magnified by the sheer power of his words. Their was a collective intake of breath from the spectators and they all turned their heads, looking quickly to Natasha, who had risen from her seat, a small, genuine smile on her face. Beal was shocked speechless, his mouth flapping wordlessly.

Natasha stepped down from the covered wooden dais, coming to the edge of the seating arena. She held out a handkerchief, a small smirk playing on her pink-stained lips. "I pray that you take this favor, High King," she said, trying hard not to giggle, "as a token of my affections." The piece of linen fluttered on the breeze for a moment before Peter took it and, squaring his shoulders without fear, marched back towards Beal.

-

Their courtship lasted two years. Two long years riddled with diplomatic visits as far as the Lone Islands or South Calormene and military campaigns into the barren North or the unfettered West. For months at a time, Peter would be gone with Edmund, negotiating border disputes with the Giants, or Natasha would be in the East, visiting Galma or Terebinthia with Susan and Lucy.

The winter was cold that last year, leading up to a wet spring, but the summer was delightfully pleasant, perfect for what the royal couple had been planning since the beginning of the new year.

Natasha had opted for pale green dress, instead of the traditional white. Susan had said it complimented her eyes, and Natasha couldn't help but agree. Her hair had grown long, reaching her waist, and was dark and glossy, woven with gossamer threads of dwarf-made silver that trailed from the silver and white clasp that held her hair away from her face. Lucy was foolish with happiness, bouncing around the chamber that had been prepared for the soon-to-be High Queen of Narnia, while Susan came close to tears every time she looked at Natasha.

None of them knew if Aslan would be there or not. After all, he was not a _tame _lion. One could not expect him to show up every time they needed him like some hopeless lapdog.

They had agreed on an afternoon wedding, just as the sun began its descent towards the eastern horizon. It was then that the hall was at its finest, bathed in the palest yellow light, making all the white marble sing with the joy of the day.

Narnian standards were hung in the dozens from the ceiling while long banners of red and green were draped between the high pillars. A plush crimson carpet had been rolled the length of the hall, ending at the dais before the throne of the High King. Another throne had been brought in that morning, placed next to Peter's, making him the ultimate center of the five chairs. Peter stood before the thrones, Edmund next to him, bouncing his weight from foot to foot anxiously.

All the guests had arrived; Mr. Tumnus, the good Beavers, Oreius and the centaurs, Prince Rabadash, and the royal family of Archenland (Beala and Lune had managed to drag Beal and biggest squeeze there somehow). But the most surprising, of course, though not exactly unexpected, was Aslan's entry naught five minutes before the ceremony was slated to start.

"Peace, High King," he murmured, his voice rumbling into Peter's ears. He whirled, finding himself staring at the Lion. "There is nothing to be anxious about."

Peter visually relaxed, but his hands were still shaking. "Aslan," he sighed, fighting the urge to childishly embracing the being, "It is good to see you."

"I surmised as much," the Lion chuckled, shaking his mane. "Greetings, King," he added, bowing slightly to Edmund, who bowed in return. He stared at the young king levelly and Edmund stared back; much had changed in the years since the defeat of the Witch. "Come, Sons of Adam. The time has come."

Peter nodded, taking a deep breath. He hoped Aslan would stay, if only for a little while. His presence was soothing at the least. "Yes, it is time," he murmured to himself, shaking his arms as he exhaled, eyes fixed on the doors at the end of the hall. He never realized how long the hall was until now.

"Peace, Peter," Aslan said again, his golden eyes on the king. Today would be a day to remember. "You have nothing to fear."

* * *


	13. Tears of Gold

Daughter of Eve: Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XII - Tears of Gold

* * *

Autumn was fast approaching, evident in every drop in temperature and every crimson leaf that fell. It was a time of the hunt, when the spring litters were full grown and the growing winds carried every chirp of the hunting bugle. Natasha was sick that day, pale as death and confined to their bedchamber. Peter hadn't wanted to leave, but he couldn't refuse Lucy's pout or Natasha insistence that watching her vomit would be no fun, so he joined his siblings.

They said the White Stag would grant whomever could catch it one wish; one wish was more than enough for Peter. He was happy with Natasha, happier than he ever thought a person could be. He loved her more than the very air he breathed and every fiber of his being knew she felt the same. Perhaps, if she had been with him, he would have heeded the foreboding chill that sank into his bones when he saw that light in through the leaves of the thick trees. An eerie familiarity rose around him, as if he had seen this place in a dream long gone and forgotten. Peter hesitated, if only for a moment, before forging ahead with his siblings.

The rough scratch of the trees became oddly soft, and the crunch of leaves underfoot faded away. The air became stale and old, so different from the wild breezes of Narnia, and he felt his brother and sisters press closer to him. They tumbled out together, falling into a heap at the foot of the wardrobe.

It all came back like a wave, beating softly at first but then overwhelming him. Lucy and the other clambered to their feet, but Peter remained on the ground. He spun so that he was facing the depths of the wardrobe and the polished wood at the back of it winked tauntingly at him. His hair had fallen into his face and a low, guttural moan escaped his lips. Susan and Lucy exchanged worried glances, both girls close to tears, while Edmund tried to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder. Peter shrugged him off, lunging for the wardrobe. He beat recklessly on the wood at the back, his sighs and roars of agony muffled by the fur coats.

They were back. It was over. She was gone.

-

She hadn't expected them anytime before nightfall, so it was a great surprise when she heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard not two hours after noon. But the queen hadn't the strength to rise from her bed, opting instead to lie and wait for Peter to open the door and chide playfully for her laziness.

A knock at the door startled her and she sat up, her head swimming. Peter didn't knock. "Yes?" she said, coughing roughly into the back of her hand. Her chestnut hair fell in waves down her back and over her shoulders, loose over her navy silk nightgown.

The person at the door hesitated before turning the knob, pushing open the heavy oak doors of the bedchamber. "Majesty," she murmured, bowing slowly. It was Aleesa, a nymph who served as one of her ladies. Her watery brown eyes were sad, drooping at the corners.

Natasha's gaze sharpened as she made to move from the bed. The nymph crossed the room swiftly, forcing the queen back towards the bed, and kneeled before her, clasping her hands. "My queen," she said, this time choking on a sob. Natasha felt her hands begin to shake as her heart skipped a beat.

"What is it?" she demanded, gripping the nymph's wrists. "Tell me, Aleesa, please!"

Aleesa bit her lip, looking away. She couldn't look the queen in the eye, not while she spoke, at least, "The High King," she said, staring at her hands. "King Edmund, Queen Lucy and Susan, my lady, Majesty," her voice shook with the weight of her words. "They are gone."

"Gone?" Natasha echoed, this time truly rising from the bed. Her eyes were wide with fright and she ran to the open window. Four riderless horses were pacing the courtyard while a multitude of advisors and court members were milling about the steps. The queen felt her hands fly to her mouth and tears rose, biting at her eyes.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aleesa whispered, still kneeling on the floor. "They have returned from whence they came. Into the Lantern Waste, beyond to their world."

"Our world," Natasha clipped, her voice no longer soft and scared but hardened and sharp. When she met the nymph's eyes, Aleesa thought they looked darker, much darker, than they had not a moment before. Something had died in the queen. "Leave me, Aleesa."

The nymph was happy to oblige, almost running from the room, her black hair streaming out behind her. Once the door was safely shut, Natasha threw back her head, sinking to the floor, sobbing into her hands. "Peter!" Her voice rose through the open window, echoing in the courtyard below. All of Narnia would weep with her.

-

Natasha didn't know how long she stayed like that, crumpled into a heap of hair, silk, and tears below the open window. Red sunset began to drip onto the floor, sending crimson and gold flags of light streaming across the stone floor. She felt his presence before she saw his great shadow on the wall. "Why did you do this?" she hissed bitterly, turning to face him.

"It was not my wish, Daughter," Aslan replied evenly, stepping off the balcony and into the chamber. "Nor was it his."

"Then why?" She was livid and her eyes were rimmed with red, tear tracks lining her face.

"It was his time. It was _their _time."

Natasha bristled and pushed herself up off the ground. "If it was his time then it was _my_ time!" she bellowed, her eyes narrowed and anger flaring in her heart. She panted for a moment, the tears dry on her face. Aslan said nothing and looked at the floor, almost as if he was ashamed for what he had done.

"I am sorry this happened, High Queen," he murmured. It was the first time he had used her title and it was like a bucket of ice water on Natasha's bones. _She_ ruled Narnia; the country and its inhabitants were _her_ responsibility now. "But I told you this would happen."

She climbed to her feet, body tense. "What?"

"When you first arrived in Narnia. I told you that you would save the country, from darkness and despair. The despair is here," he breathed, eyeing her slowly, "the darkness is yet to come."

Natasha sighed, glaring daggers at the lion. "Must you speak in riddles, Aslan? Peter is gone. I have not the strength to bandy crooked words with you."

"You know there is danger ahead, Natasha," the lion said slowly. She met his eyes and for a moment she thought she saw a single golden tear for her broken world. "Narnia cannot be left leaderless."

But she shook her head. "Peter was -and still is- High King," she breathed. "I never was fit to rule. I am not of noble blood nor descent, I have no training in the matters of government and politics. I cannot rule." Natasha crossed her arms, pacing up and down in front of Aslan.

"I assure you, you can," Aslan half-growled. "Peter was your husband, your king, but Peter is not the air you breath nor the food you eat. You will survive without him." Natasha shook her head. She found that hard to believe.

"If you knew his time," she replied, not addressing his previous statement. "Then you know my time." Aslan cocked his head, blinking slowly. She was breaking without Peter. "When can I return, Aslan?"

But he shook his head. "You know the answer to that, Natasha. I cannot tell you." He turned, padding slowly back out to the balcony, and Natasha followed numbly.

The two were framed by the last light of golden sunset, their shadows cast in dark relief against the back wall. "It will be long," Aslan sighed, shaking his mane, "Before you see him again."

"But I will see him again."


	14. I Will Remember You

Daughter of Eve: Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XIII - I Will Remember You

* * *

A/N - Okay, sorry that I'm jumping around so much, it's just there isn't much to touch on concerning the inbetween-y years of the Pevensies. This chap touches on their return in Prince Caspian and I'm planning for the next to be at the end of PC or perhaps in London. Also, I'm thinking of doing a short ficlet on what happened to Natasha when she was left in Narnia. Hope you like!

* * *

The four Pevensies stumbled together, looking around in amazement at the sudden change in surroundings. In the blink of an eye they had gone from a dreary train station to the center of some ancient ruins, the sun beating down brightly. At home, it had been raining. It was certainly not raining now.

At first, Lucy felt frightened, a rare happening in the year since their return from Narnia. Her fear dissipated quickly; this place was oddly, _deliciously_ familiar. "Peter-," she murmured, moving to her brother's side quickly. Was it possible, could it be-?

Peter stood silently, surveying the ruins with a stern steady eye. "It's not, Lu," he replied, his voice firm but soft towards his youngest sister. "It can't be. There were no ruins like this anywhere in Narnia."

Susan moved next to him, glancing all around. "Yes, there were no ruins, Peter. In _our _time, at least."

"What do you mean, 'our time', Susan?"

"She means," Edmund cut in, brushing the dirt from his neatly pressed trousers, "that Narnian time is different than our own. Who knows, if a thousand years have gone by, this could be-," he stumbled for a moment. Narnia was full of memory. "This could be anywhere. Even Narnia."

Lucy nodded adamantly, her brown hair flying as she looked from left to right. "You know, this could be Cair Paravel, if you put your mind to it." she said slowly, pacing forward. "The great hall, you see." She pointed out the walls, and frowned at the great wall of ivy overgrowing the dais.

Her voice trailed away as Peter's mind slowly drowned her out. If this was Narnia - then there was no hope. He felt his feet move, taking him away from his brother and sisters, still discussing the possibility that this could have been their home once. The grass was soft beneath his feet, green like - like her eyes. Wind whistled softly in his ears, and for a moment, it was as if she was next to him again, her soft breath on his bare shoulder, sculpted from years of battle and training. There was too much memory here; even if it was not Narnia. Behind him, Susan stooped, her tapered fingers wrapping around a heavy object nestled in the grass.

The stone certainly could have been Narnian, identical to the rocks found in the northern quarries. Peter shook his head; if this was Narnia, then he didn't want to know. He couldn't bear it again, not without her.

He followed the path unconsciously, crossing the dilapidated hall to the broken arch that opened to what once must have been a courtyard. There were the remnants of a fountain in the center, a cast bronze horse missing a hoof rearing in it, forever frozen in its pose. It had been a gift from Archenland, to show good will between the two countries. "Peter!" Susan called, running after him, her find clutched in her hand. "Peter!" She followed him into the courtyard, nearly sliding across the grass slick with dew into the fountain. "Peter- oh, Peter."

The boy had fallen to his knees, crouched before a weathered statue hewn of marble. His eyes were red, rimmed with tears and it seemed he had lost the power to speak. Susan stood behind him, frozen, a hand clasped over her mouth.

It was Natasha, as best could be perceived from her cold, carven likeness that stared blankly down at her former husband. She wore grand robes, and her necklace, but no crown. The stone was chipped in places, and flowers sprung up wildly around the granite base. "Lilies," Peter murmured, fingering a pale pink one lightly. "Her favorite." There was a sad smile on his face and his eyes were dark.

"There's something written," Susan muttered, leaning past Peter's shoulder, brushing the flowers aside. She brushed her hand against the granite base and years of dirt and moss fell away like a curtain. "In memory of Natasha," she read, "High Queen of Narnia. Beloved wife, beloved queen. She will be forever missed." Then she narrowed her eyes. "There's a date here."

Her voice trailed away as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears gathering behind her lashes as she tried to steady her breathing. "I- I can't believe it," she whispered. "Fifteen years, Peter. She was here for _more_ fifteen years."

Peter was silent, staring blankly up at the statue of his wife. He couldn't find the strength to speak and could only stare. He was too late; far too late. Slowly, his great wall crumpled and fat tears leaked out of his eyes and he leaned forward on his knees, his forehead nearly touching the wild grass, face buried in his hands. "It was too soon, Susan!" he choked, his face reddening. All that he had been holding back for the past year began to spill. "We didn't-," he hiccupped and sat back, "We didn't have enough time! If we- if I had known that-!"

Susan felt her heart break for her brother and wrapped him in a warm embrace, holding his shaking body. "I know, Peter," she said, the tears biting at her eyes. "But that- it was our time. Aslan told us our years were numbered, we _knew_ it wouldn't last."

There was truth in her words. But it did nothing to quench Peter's longing for Natasha, nor his anger in Aslan's choice to send them back. "I didn't think he'd separate us, Su. She was still here. She was alone! Fifteen years, alone!" His voice rose and he stood angrily, shrugging Susan off.

"Peter, there's nothing you could have done-!"

"Can't you understand this?" he yelled, rounding on her. "She was my wife! She _is_ my wife! I left her! I left her all alone and now-," the once great king began to break down again, and he gritted his teeth. "Now she's gone. She's gone and I'll never see her again."

"And what's more," he added, laying a hand on the base of the statue, looking up at the stone face as one would a god, "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't her fault. It was Aslan's fault. And I can't find it in my heart to blame him."

Edmund and Lucy heard raised voices, and a strangled cry that brought them back to the day they first her Peter weep for his lost life. They both tore off in the direction of the nose, not caring that anything could have been beyond the arch. Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw.

This had obviously been a courtyard, but the rock floor had been overgrown with thick grass and multicolored lilies. Peter stood by a marble statue, his eyes shining and tears were dried on his face. Susan stood a little ways away, her hands holding her face as she wept softly to herself. Something in the statue had reduced both their eldest siblings to weak tears and shaking limbs.

Then Lucy gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. Realization dawned on her, and on Edmund, and she crossed the courtyard swiftly, embracing her brother without saying a word. Peter was frozen for a moment before burying his face in her shoulder. Something about his youngest sister always calmed him, and now was no different.

"Pete," Edmund began, his voice cracking as he spoke. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing gently. "If she's gone here, then she's back home. All we have to do is get back."

Susan stood up straight, fully taking in her surroundings. "If we _can _get back."

* * *


	15. London Calling

Daughter of Eve: Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XIV - London Calling

* * *

The dates used in this chapter may not be correct, but bear with me

* * *

She remembered the weight of her golden crown, of a kingdom on her shoulders. She remembered the scent of a land untouched by greed or cruelty. She remembered days filled with nothing but laughter and joy. She remembered the way his hand would fit in her own. She remembered everything.

* * *

Natasha landed on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked from her. Her horse slipped to a halt a few feet away, panting against the dissipating fog. She lay, wheezing on the ground, clutching her torso, and somewhere in the distant she thought she heard a low growl. Not a growl that would make you afraid, but one that shook you to your toes and made your remember everything, both good and past. She sat up sharply, wincing as she moved, and looked around.

The trail was familiar, and her clothing felt oddly tight. The girl glanced down, finding that she was no longer wearing her royal robes and silk dress. They were replaced with belted slate grey riding pants, leather boots, and a white button down. Her hair was shorter, and lighter, braided away from her face. Then it hit her. Aslan had sent her back. She was no longer Natasha, High Queen of Narnia. She was just Natasha Beauregard, a plain girl from Manhattan.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears gather. "Thank you, Aslan," she murmured, rising to her feet. "Thank you."

--

It was 1940 when she came back. And all she could think about was him. Peter. Peter and the life she had. The people, the creatures, she knew, everything she was and everything she stood for. But she always came back to Peter. She knew he was in London and every time she heard a radio broadcast or news of more bombing, she came close to tears, thinking of him being there.

The war had made everything difficult. She had begged her parents to go to London, to 'see the world', as she had put it. They had refused; London was a war zone and Europe was not safe anymore. "Not now, Natasha," they replied. "Not now."

She was eighteen in 1945, when the war ended. Then she had begged, pleaded, wept even. Her parents didn't understand her obsession with England, and again they refused. London was still being rebuilt, and they didn't want to see Europe until it had been restored to its former glory. Little did they know, their daughter did not pine for Europe for its history and architecture.

Before Narnia, she had been typical, normal, average, to a point that it was almost sickening. But afterwards, even her young brothers had noticed the change. She was noble, valiant, proud, and grave. She spoke rarely, but when she did, it was full of meaning and heavy with truth. Her mind was always somewhere else.

College was torture at best. Her parents had sent her to New England, to Wellesley College near Boston. It was their dearest wish for her to settle down and marry a Harvard boy, but Natasha would have none of it. Instead of visiting the Harvard campus with her friends or taking the train to New York, she focused on the only thing she could: her studies. Little did she know, across the Atlantic, at Oxford, Peter was doing the same. They both did the best they could to keep their minds off each other.

1948 was a blessing. Natasha was finishing her third year of college, and, against her parents wishes, used money from her trust fund to fly herself to England for the summer.

--

The clouds had just begun to roll away and the streets were still wet from the morning showers. Green surrounded her and the ancient trees hung over the streets, their branches stretching like long, dark fingers. The sun rose high in the sky, shortening her shadow as she walked, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. _Pevensie, _it read, _82 Lancaster Grove_. In her mind, she was praying to the Great Lion the address was correct.

She paused, her heart fluttering in her chest, as she looked at the number on the house in front of her. _82_. Slowly, she took a deep breath before pushing open the garden gate, crossing the front yard to the porch, where she knocked lightly on the door. At first there was no answer, and she straightened her black blouse nervously and fluffed her hair. _What if doesn't remember? What if he doesn't love me anymore? What if, what if?_

Her breath caught as the door opened. "Ed, just let him be. You can't fix a sink yourself and- I'm sorry, can I help you?" It was a girl on the verge of becoming a woman. She had chestnut hair and warm brown eyes that sparkled in the summer sun.

Natasha fell silent, her jaw slack and mouth open. "I- I'm-," she stuttered, blinking profusely.

"Oh my goodness," the girl said in a very small voice, a voice that Natasha could never forget.

Natasha covered her mouth with her hand in surprise. "Lucy?" she whispered, closing the distance between herself and the doorframe. Lucy nodded mutely, her eyes welling with tears. "By Aslan, Lucy!" The two embraced warmly, laughing with each other, and it all seemed to come rolling back. The forgotten years washed over them like waves on the sad, and Natasha felt rejuvenated. Peter was now within her grasp.

"You're here for Peter, aren't you?" Lucy murmured, pulling back. Natasha nodded, her hands shaking from anxiety. She had been waiting for this day for nearly a decade, but if you counted her years spent alone in Narnia, it was more like twenty-five. Lucy grinned widely and took Natasha by the hand, pulling her into the house.

Her heart began to pound and all she could here was a strange buzzing as Lucy led her down a dim hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house. Edmund poked his head out of the study, seeing the two women hurry past. Not recognizing Natasha, he only shook his head and returned to dusting. "Girls," he muttered.

Lucy stopped quietly just inside the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes set forward. Natasha followed her gaze and felt her heart skip a beat. There he was. Crouched on the floor, head stuck below the sinking where he was fixing a pipe. A pile of tools lay forgotten next to him, as he preferred to work with his bare hands. The calluses he earned were only a trifle compared to the battle worn hands he once had.

Again, Natasha straightened her blouse, smoothed her skirt, and fluffed her hair. Her eyes became watery, but she promised herself she would not cry.

--

It was just another day for Peter. Since the beginning of the summer holiday, he hadn't found much excuse to remain at Oxford after his graduation. Lucy was still at home, and still his favorite sister (though with Susan there was not much competition), going into her last year of school before hopefully attending university. He doubted it though; Lucy was a bright girl, but she wouldn't be able to handle something so grueling as college. Edmund, on the other hand, lived at home but attended the University of London. And Susan- well, Peter didn't like to think about Susan much.

She had gone to America once. Peter had begged her (and it is quite a sight to see king beg) to let him go in her stead, but she had refused, flipping her dark hair, and trotting off to some party or dance. Susan had forgotten Narnia, and Natasha with it.

He thought about her, more now that he was an adult. He remembered their days, their nights spent together. How she felt so fragile and yet so strong in his arms. Lucy had asked him why he hadn't gone looking for her and he only replied with a shake of his head. Their mother was ill, their father dead, and he couldn't leave just Lucy and Edmund to take care of things. Heaven knew Susan wouldn't. Again, Peter was noble and stern, putting others before himself and his needs.

Peter paused as he fiddled with the pipes, carefully unwrapping a rag from around the leak, totally unaware that he was not alone in the room. Natasha could barely stand it, seeing him there, but her heart acted on its own accord.

"Come Josephine in my flying machine," she sang slowly, taking a step into the kitchen. "Going up she goes, up she goes." She saw Peter freeze, his back still to her, and the pipes clattered as his hands began to shake.

"Don't do that, Lucy," he muttered, rising to his feet. "You sound just like her."

There was a small, broken laugh and a sniff of someone holding back tears. "I'm not Lucy," she whispered, her voice breaking in places.

Peter whirled as quickly as he could, but for the two of them everything seemed to be in slow motion. Their eyes met, for the first time in long years, and the thirst Peter had felt for almost a decade was quenched. They both fell silent, having nothing to say. Natasha lowered her eyes reluctantly wringing her hands. She spoke first.

"You have no idea how hard it is to navigate Finchley," she sighed. Peter only stared, his slack-jawed expression weakening into a giddy grin. He took her, and himself, by surprise, both unaware that he could still move so fast, lifting her off the ground as if she was nothing more than a rag doll. Lucy smiled, leaving the room to head off Edmund, who was beginning to suspect that more than plumbing was going on in the kitchen.

"Tasha," Peter murmured against her lips, setting her down on the countertop, "Tasha, you have no idea-."

"Peter, Peter," she replied, wrapping her thin arms around his neck, "I think I do," she said, smiling against her tears. They both laughed, holding each other like they never would let go. Truthfully, neither wanted to, but they broke apart when Edmund, who had easily made it through Lucy, cleared his throat.

"I think I'm going to need an explanation," he said, sternly eyeing Peter as he crossed his arms. He was cross, in fact, because he hadn't seen or yet recognized the girl in Peter's arms, was about to let his brother betray the woman he had sworn his love to.

Peter grinned, turning around. Natasha rested her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his chest. "Hello, Edmund," she said, smirking at him. The look on his face was priceless.

"Still need an explanation?" Peter added smugly.

Edmund blinked for a moment, speechless, before opening his mouth. "I'll- I'll just go- then," he stuttered, turning on his heel. The two in the kitchen could hear a whispered argument in the hall between Lucy and Edmund, and it made both of them chuckle.

"You could have told me, I've just gone and made a right fool of myself!"

"It's not my fault you were so eager to see what was going on that you wouldn't listen! You just wanted to catch Peter being less than who he is, so you can play Edmund the Just again."

"That's rot and you know it, Lu." There was a hint of a pout in Edmund's voice and Lucy giggled as his footsteps died away.

Peter felt his attention drawn back to her and her breath on his neck brought him back to a time when they were king and queen. "I've missed you, darling," he whispered, turning back to her. "More than even I realized."

"Oh, Peter," she sobbed, throwing herself back into his arms. "We've finally done it."

"Done what?"

"This was our great task. Aslan made it so. And we've done it."

* * *

Alright, I think I've only got one more chapter in me, but there's still more! Can we say return to Narnia, er, the true Narnia, if you follow. Review!


	16. Forever

Daughter of Eve: Tale of a Forgotten Queen

Chapter XV - Forever

* * *

WOW. I'm mean. I sincerely apologize for making you all wait this long. There is no excuse. But I am writing a book, if that appeases anyone (I don't think it will is guilty). It's a fantasy, duh, with my own spin. No, no shameless romance (or not. I haven't decided exactly how much I should put in), sorry guys.

And this is short. But it felt so RIGHT, writing this. Everything seemed so perfect and final. And I hope you enjoy it. I have.

SQUEE I can finally put up that little 'complete' sign. Fulfillment. Try it.

* * *

It was a Tuesday morning and there was no bread in the Pevensie household. Lucy had complained half-heartedly that there was no toast for her breakfast while Edmund fretted there would be naught to make his mid-afternoon sandwich with. Peter ignored them both, quite content to read his newspaper while Natasha dozed, her head resting in his lap.

She yawned widely, showing even white teeth. "You know," she said, smiling sweetly up at Peter, "I wouldn't mind some toast."

He only turned the page of his paper and sniffed. "Toast is overrated."

"Come now, Peter, wouldn't it be nice to get out of the house before it rains again?" she pleaded, sitting up so that her face was only inches from Peter's. "It has been such a rainy summer."

Peter kept his gaze firmly on the newspaper, though he found himself rereading the same sentence over and over. He made a grumbling noise that reverberated in his wide chest and squinted, pretending to read the fine print of an advertisement. Natasha followed his gaze and smirked.

"In the market for hosiery, are you?" she snickered, snatching the newspaper away.

He sighed aloud, trying to look put out, but found he couldn't manage it and laughed with her. "So, toast, then?"

She nodded. "Toast."

"What my queen commands," he jumped off the couch, pulling Natasha to her feet, "My queen receives." She smiled at his words and threw her arms about his shoulders, nuzzling her face into the curve of his neck.

"You have not forgotten your manners, High King," she murmured.

He grinned suggestively and ran his hands along her neck. "That's not all I haven't forgotten," he whispered, planting a kiss on her skin. She shuddered, his touch still a wonder to her after so many years.

"You've become devilish in my absence," she giggled, drawing back so that she could look into his twinkling eyes.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he breathed, pulling her close again.

She sighed, rolling her eyes to herself. "You just have an answer for everything, don't you?" He smiled against her and let his lips rest against her collarbone. "Alright, there will be time for that later," she pushed him away again, smiling all the while. "But now, toast."

Peter heaved a sigh, reluctantly parting from her embrace. "Toast."

"Toast," she said again, failing to keep a crooked smile from her features. "Where can we find said toast?"

"A toaster," Peter said, straining to keep a straight face. He received a light punch on the arm for his efforts and Natasha glared at him. "The corner shop, but Mrs. Coyle is away for the week. I'm afraid we'll have to go into the city."

"By train?" Natasha offered.

Peter nodded. "The railway station is just around the corner."

"Then off we go, on our quest for toast!" Natasha laughed, grabbing him by his hand. She pulled him out of the living room and into the front hall where Lucy and Edmund were bickering. Apparently, Edmund had eaten the last egg and now Lucy had nothing for breakfast. They asked where the couple were going and decided to come along as well, for it was a very nice day, especially in such a rainy summer. The sun shone on the street and there was not a cloud as they left the house, Natasha and Peter leading the way. They laughed and talked cheerfully, skirting the puddles that Lucy happily kicked up. And so the two kings and two queens picked their way down the English street, unaware of the great step before them.

A war had started it all, so many years ago, and now, it seemed, toast would finish it.

* * *

The train screeched horribly, waking Natasha from her light nap. Her fingernails dug into Peter's arm and his hand searched wildly for her own. Edmund threw an arm over Lucy and then all went white and silent.

* * *

Peter felt numb. His whole body tingled with sensation and it was a moment before he realized he was lying on the flat of his back, staring up at a clear blue sky. Grass, soft, lush and green ticked his hands and he sat up, eyes straining against the blinding light of an impossibly large sun. There was a moment where he remembered nothing, not his name nor his love, and simple was. But his mind returned to him with ease and he stood up, almost too quickly and found himself yelling. 

"Natasha!"

He could not lose her again. It would be more than his heart could bear.

"Natasha!"

There was no answer and panic set into his bones.

"Natasha!"

"I'm here!"

Her voice was faint at first and as his eyes adjusted, Peter could see her standing some yards away in the shade of a tree. He ran towards her, almost tripping over his own feet. No, not his feet. Boots, tight and as high as his knee, strange yet so familiar, had stopped him. "What is this?" he muttered, staring down at his legs. His eyes rose, taking in his appearance.

It was clothing well-known to him, woven of fine Narnian fabrics, stamped with the Great Lion. Natasha wore her own royal garments, the last Narnian dress he had seen her in. A vision of greens; jade, hunter and sage, all spilling around her like a mossy sea.

"What is this?" he said again.

She looked down at her hands. There was a scar there, between her thumb and forefinger. It had come from a dagger. It had not existed in the other world.

"We're back," she replied, looking up with shining eyes. "Narnia."

"Narnia."

She reached for his hand, feeling the old hardness of his able fingers. "Our time has come again," she breathed. There was so much emotion, so raw and unchecked, spilling from her that she found she could not look up for long.

Peter sensed her unease and brushed his other hand against her jaw, raising her head so that their eyes met. "How long will it last?" he whispered.

There was a knowing smile in her eyes.

"Forever, my love. Forever."

* * *

****

Fin.

My thanks to everyone. This could not have been possible without you.


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